Author: Anita Westervelt
-
Anita’s Blog – Valuable Garden Mates
There’s nothing quite so mystical as a crisp, heavy-dewed, humid, 73-degree morning at first light. The fences, shrubs, trees and anything that didn’t move during the night are shrouded in artfully constructed spider webs that glint and dazzle in the rays of the rising sun. Conversely, there’s nothing so annoying as walking face first into…
-
Lichens — colorful, unique, complex and beautiful
Story and photos by Anita Westervelt, Texas Master Naturalist Lichens are unique organisms that have been around for about 400 million years. They are not plants, nor mosses. Lichens, defined biologically, are a complex life form that is a symbiotic (mutually beneficial) partnership of two separate organisms: a fungus and an alga. Lichens do not…
-
Anita’s Blog — There’s Always Something
Discovering a pile of scat is like being visited by something in secret, and just to prove it came and went unnoticed, it leaves a trace of itself for you to find. I found a most unusual splotch on the driveway one morning that didn’t relate to anything I recalled ever having seen. It was…
-
A day in the life of a Texas insect
Story and photos by Anita Westervelt Ever wonder what it’s like to be an insect? Let’s begin at the break of dawn, that diaphanous time when the earth is pitch black with but a hint of translucent pink on the horizon. Just before this magical time, butterflies, moths, cicadas and other winged creatures begin breaking…
-
Yellow blooms for the Butterfly Garden
Story and photos by Anita Westervelt, Texas Master Naturalist A yellow garden is full of sunshine — and butterflies, bees and hummingbirds! An important aspect of a butterfly garden is to have something blooming year-round so butterflies visit longer. Color variety is important, too, but let’s hear it for the yellows. Four native, nectar-rich, butterfly-attracting…
-
Anita’s Blog — The Dark of Night
Everyone knows the night time is scary. Any matter of danger lurks, undetected, in the dark. A couple of years ago, a soft wheeeel gained in decibels near where I was enjoying the summer night; the screeched word slowly growing to a piercing squeal before settling into a puc, puc, p’weeEER. Frightening, it was, leaving…